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The sensation of nearly suffocating, that brink-of-death feeling, crazily swept over Jiang Ni, the intense impact making her brain dizzy, completely losing the ability to think.
Early winter in Beijing, the evening breeze was piercingly cold, and as the wind rose, the streets turned bleak; quite unlike the daytime bustle, all that remained was endless silence.
On Chang'an Street, one could hardly hear any traffic noise.
Jiang Ni leaned on his shoulder, and it took a long while before she could breathe evenly. Qin Jijing's large palm was on her back, moving up and down, helping her to catch her breath.
Feeling guilty, she glanced out of the window; at that moment, the car was stopped at an intersection waiting for the traffic light.
Fortunately, there really were no pedestrians or vehicles passing by; at least within her line of sight, it was just them.
But she still felt ashamed.
She always felt she might be seen.
